


Lilies and Poison Ivy

by sakura_kiss



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Pride and Prejudice Fusion, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Bickering turned into sexual tension, Bottom Draco Malfoy, But is so socially inept he comes off as a douche, Crossdressing, Draco is Elizabeth and Harry is Mr. Darcy, Draco is strong-willed, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Feminine Draco, Harry honestly just wants Draco to be his wifey, Harry is awkward and doesn't know how to communicate, Harry is possessive and protective, Hermione and Draco are best friends, M/M, Marriage, Mpreg, Mutual pining but they're like both dumbasses, Not Canon Compliant, Pretty Draco, Ron is Mr. Bingley and Hermione is Jane, Slow Burn, Stereotypical Gender Roles, Top Harry Potter, not underaged
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 13:36:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20797472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakura_kiss/pseuds/sakura_kiss
Summary: It had always been within a gentleman's favor to find a bride that will be both suitable of class and wealth. This fact rang throughout England and was instilled in children from a young age. For those already married and have neither grand status or illustrious wealth, it was in their best interest to wish for their offspring's success in finding a marital partner.Or, a Pride and Prejudice inspired story with Draco as Elizabeth and Harry as Mr. Darcy





	1. Romance is not for everyone

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Pride and Prejudice is one of my favorite movies and I thought Harry and Draco were perfect for it. Please comment on what you would like to see in the future for this story such as crossdressing cause I did make Draco a bit more feminine or mpreg or if you're just enjoying it the way it is! Thank you guys so much (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

It had always been within a gentleman's favor to find a bride that will be both suitable of class and wealth. This fact rang throughout England and was instilled in children from a young age. For those already married and have neither grand status or illustrious wealth, it was in their best interest to wish for their offspring's success in finding a marital partner. 

The Malfoys were not a family of extravagant wealth, nor were they a family of resounding fame, but their home was of considerable stature and their reputation deemed them well-groomed citizens of society. Lucius Malfoy, patriarch of the Malfoy family, had been a merchant in his early years and was able to provide a rather comfortable living for his wife and child due to an inheritance that was bestowed upon him. Although this estate was located further away from town, it included a small farm and garden in which produce was accessible. It wasn't necessarily frugal living, situated in a large plot of land, but it wasn't comparable to the mansions that were located down by the river. Therefore, the Malfoys found themselves between two worlds: the proletariat and the bourgeoisie. 

Narcissa Malfoy was a lovely woman; a woman who enjoyed the finer accessories of life. A french native, Narcissa was fond of all things lace, gold, pearl, and glass. An upright woman, Narcissa walked with a graceful air, as if she floated upon clouds. Her head held high and a taste for luxury, she attempted to make her home, what was at first a dilapidated and broken farmhouse, into a cozy and loving environment for her newborn son, Draco. Draco had been the crown jewel of the Malfoy family. Doted on by both his parents, Draco had grown within a family of adoration and fondness. Although his mother sometimes smothered him, nitpicking and pushing little details, she wished to gift Draco with any luxury their small fortune could afford. His father, although not as overbearing, was just as affectionate, if not more. Draco had always found a special bond with his father that surpassed his bond with his mother. Lucius may not have been a rather emotional man, but often did Draco find a warm hand on his shoulder, or patting his back. Often did he find a warm chest to hug into when he absolutely needed one and often did Lucius', firm tone bring ease to his senses. His family was enough, more than enough for his tastes. 

Draco had been a child of extreme beauty, a child with good breeding. His parents had often joked they had raised a fairy or nymph or any other woodland creature of storytale instead of a human boy. Lithe figure, sharp features, brilliant grey eyes and icy blond hair, Draco was otherworldly. Porcelain skin, creamy and pale to the eye that rose to soft pink when flushed, Draco found himself at the center of attention within the young men in town when he was doing his daily shopping. A sweet fawn amongst a group of wild boars, Draco had never been like the other boys his age. While the others boys grew to be muscular and hairy, a true symbol of virility and blind pride, Draco had grown to be somewhat of a fair maiden, delicate and elegant. This fact was to his mother's delight, who desperately wished to see her child engaged and married by the time he was 16. Preferably to a man of wealthy means who would give her son a life of riches and comfort. 

At 18 years old, Draco was neither engaged, nor married. Much to his mother's disdain, Draco had never found himself drawn to romantic affairs like the girls in his classes, or the women his mother would bring home for tea and gossip. Narcissa often joked that Draco's dispassionate for romance was the bane of her existence. Her pretty child, as beautiful as fresh fallen snow on vibrant green English countryside, would rather bury his head in books and poetry than socialize and would rather dirty his hands and clothes with soil from gardening, than wear crisp white linens and lace. Narcissa often blamed her husband for Draco's rather independent and headstrong behavior. He was not docile and giddy like the other girls his age had been, but instead he was sharp tongued, rather crass at times and otherwise blunt. Although Draco's sarcastic comments often brought a smile and chuckle to his father's face, his mother abhorred this personality characteristic of her son. Draco, at times, could be rather charming and witty. In fact, he felt rather comfortable when confronted with a battle of wits. But, his mother feared that his slightly boorish behavior would scare away potential partners who would much rather prefer a bubbly airhead than a brooding scholar. Draco never really minded this fact and often told his mother he wouldn't mind never getting married (at this comment, Narcissa gasped and held her heart, telling Draco to not say such things).  
\---

Draco was blessed to have one good friend in his life that he could rely on and shared his affinity for some of his hobbies. Hermione Granger was a pretty girl, with wild and lush chestnut locks and curious honey eyes, she and Draco often joked that they were the opposites of each other. Draco and Hermione often found themselves taking strolls by the river, discussing books they've read or the daily news. For Draco, who had never had a sibling or companion, Hermione had meant the world to him. Today, the pair had decided to walk through town, picking up meat for their meals at home. 

"Have you heard about the men who have purchased the estates down in Derbyshire?" Hermione asked as she ran her hands down the piles of fruits that were for sale, picking some up and bringing them to her nose to smell and then placing down again. 

"Oh?" Draco asked as he flipped through the pages of the book he had picked up, eyes not even lifting to meet his friend's face. "And are these men of any specific concern for me or…?"

"It's the estate that's down the road from your home. Perhaps you'll be neighbors with a cool, mysterious gentlemen who'll sweep you off your feet~" Hermione smirked like a cat, mischievous and teasing. 

Draco snorted and let out an exasperated "ha" as he closed his book. "Oh, wouldn't that be lovely, my mother will be thrilled!" Draco exclaimed sarcastically, setting the book back down and picking up his wicker shopping basket again. "If he's anything like the other extremely wealthy men who cooly and mysteriously buy mansions at the end of the road, he'll be nothing but arrogant and prideful."

"Oh come now, Draco. How could you be so pessimistic?" Hermione whined, "With your good looks, any man would be lucky to have you, arrogant or not" 

"And am I to simply ignore these characteristics? Simply marry a man regardless if he's an absolute brute as long as he can afford the mansions in Derbyshire?" Draco scoffed, "Now you're sounding like my mother, 'Mione" 

"I'm simply saying, do you really not care for romance? You truly don't want a future husband?" Hermione asked as she and Draco walked down the road towards their homes. Draco mulled over the question for a second, biting his bottom lip. 

"If one day, God bestowed upon me a man who is worthy of me, then perhaps I would marry." Draco sighed. "But from what I have seen, all men are pigs who wallow in their own muck. Good riddance, I say," Draco huffed, crossing his arms. 

"Then perhaps we should work extra hard to find such a man for you~ the poorer the better since you seem to detest rich men," Hermione teased once more, which earned a sharp shove from Draco, causing Hermione to giggle.  
\---

"Mother! Father! I'm home," Draco called as he entered through the door, untying his coat and setting down his basket. He heard the bustling of maids and cooks in the back kitchen and his mother's heels clicking down on mahogany floors. 

"Welcome home darling," she smiled, taking the basket from the table and handing it off to one of the servants. "Look at what I found up in the attic!" She pulled from behind her a white Chantilly lace ribbon. Draco's eyebrows raised as he cocked his hips. 

"And what, may I ask, is that for?" 

"Well, since your hair has been growing longer, I thought it would be quite pretty all tied up," she smiled, sitting Draco down and gathering his long, silken hair up into a bunch. Draco had been growing out his hair since he was a child, having it a little bit past his shoulders. Narcissa began to hum as she ran her fingers through his blonde locks, tying the ribbon into a bow in Draco's hair. "There! Nice and pretty~" she beamed as she dragged Draco to a mirror. The ribbon was in fact pretty, bringing Draco's hair upwards and showing off his features. The ribbon was, in fact, quite delicate and made of expensive materials, far too grand for anything in Draco's daily wardrobe. 

"And where would I ever wear something like this?" He asked, looking at himself in the mirror and adjusting his own hair. 

"Well...perhaps at the town hall tonight? I did hear a certain pair of men are moving into the neighborhood and perhaps they'll be at this certain soiree."

Draco's face blushed and he whipped around to face his mother. "Unbelievable! How did you even hear about this?? Hermione didn't tell me until this morning!" 

Narcissa clapped her hands, "Come now Draco, we MUST find the perfect outfit for you!" She exclaimed as she dragged her son up to his room, regardless of Draco's whines. "Something new, preferably, and something beautiful. Perhaps your father will lend you some clothing? Well, maybe not. I mean, after all you do look better in MY clothes," she teased, ignoring Draco's growing red cheeks. "Oh how I remember when you were a little thing and would try on my petticoats and lip rouges." 

"Mother, please," he whined, sitting down on his bed as his mother sifted through his closet and pulled out various garments for Draco to try on. "I was a child, after all." 

"Yes, but you did look quite darling! Please, humor your mother and allow my seamstress to make you a pretty slip? Perhaps a nightgown?" Narcissa whined, clutching onto a silky white button up blouse. Draco's entire body felt inflamed and embarrassed. He proceeded to push his mother out of his room, insisting he'd find the appropriate outfit for the party. 

"Please do try to look nice, Draco! There will be a multitude of eligible bachelors and I hope you catch the eye of more than one of them!" Narcissa yelled through the closed door, turning on her heel and leaving. When Draco heard the soft clattering of heels disappear, he tiredly threw himself onto his bed, whining into a pillow. It's not like he particularly wanted to go to the party. The only thing that would make it the least bit tolerable was the accompaniment of Hermione. Sure, Draco would not be opposed to the merriment of dancing and drinking libations, but he absolutely knows that his enjoyment will dissipate the minute his mother urges him to dance with random strangers. 

The boy sat up in his bed and walked over to his closet, sifting through the different clothes he has. Finally deciding on a billowy satin shirt with a waistcoat and slacks that were tighter than they had to be, accentuating his doll-like waist and thin legs. Rubbing some rose oil into his soft skin and bending over to lace up his leather heeled boots. Draco began to fiddle with his clothing in the mirror, eyes glancing over to his dresser table and spotting a pot of lip rouge. His mother must have left it there on purpose and the thought made Draco roll his eyes. But, regardless, he snatched the pot into his hand and began to dab pigment onto his already pink plump lips and some on his cheekbones. Draco always did teeter on the edges of masculine and feminine, blurring the lines between the two and creating his own fashion. Draco left his room and found himself walking into his father. The man was an intimidating figure, taller than Draco by considerable inches. While Draco was a mix of his mother's soft skin, he had most definitely inherited his father's sharp bone structure. Lucius was a stoic man, one less inclined to show emotions through prose and more in actions. Upon seeing his son, Lucius' falcon-like features softened. 

"Oh, Draco…" he muttered, gazing upon his son's outfit. "You look lovely. I assume your mother did your hair?" Draco nodded, hand reaching back to playing with the ends of it. Lucius nodded and straightened himself out. "Come now, I won't have us be late." 

Draco whined and trailed behind his father as his mother joined them. They piled into their carriage and the three of them drove off to town.


	2. Rude encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco get off on the wrong foot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Please comment with suggestions or if you simply enjoyed this chapter. It really encourages me to continue writing! Thank you!

The banquet hall had been filled with the cheers of drunken gentlemen and the laughter of ladies being swept away into dances. A warm and golden yellow glow from candles and only slightly more neon chandeliers casted an inviting and intimate aura upon the party. The music from the orchestra had been playing nonstop and the dancing had only followed; men lifting women high in the air and women twirling around like an intricate courting dance done by birds covered in frills and pearls. One could easily get lost in the pandemonium, passed along bumbling guests all who had found their own personal niches within the festivities.   
Draco and Hermione had found themselves seated in front of the dancing, tucked away from sight lest they be asked to dance. Joined together by a few others they had become acquainted with, the small group found themselves enjoying the ornate cups of wine and swapping gossip. 

"Our little Draco refuses to become slave to love, it seems," Hermione attempted to speak over the sound of the entire hall and smiled, ignoring Draco's whining. 

"I refuse to become slave to anything that causes a person to become like that," he replies, pointing subtly at a girl and her dance partner who were laughing in a bubbly fashion, the young lady practically draping herself against him and refusing to let up. "If I ever become that clingy, please take me to the farm and put me out of my misery like a lame horse." 

Their conversation came to a resounding halt when the music abruptly stopped and all that was left was the scattering of feet to make a small hall in between. Draco and Hermione stood up quickly, smoothing out their clothing and Draco on his tiptoes attempting to see what the commotion was about. A red-faced, pudgey and stumpy man came forth from the main entrance and cleared his throat. In a booming voice, he announced. "Please welcome our esteemed guests, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter!" 

Draco could only spot little bits and pieces of the two new guests from his vantage point, only feeling Hermione tugging him down to whisper in his ear. "That's your new neighbor you know, a certain Mr. Weasley."

The two men began to walk down the hallway in a dignified fashion. The entire banquet hall grew quiet in their presence, bowing when they approached them. When they began to approach Draco and Hermione's area, the two bowed. While Mr. Weasley gave a striking and, in Draco's opinion, dopey smile to them (mostly Hermione), his companion, Mr. Potter, simply stared at Draco, even if only for a second. Draco eyes never faltered as they made eye contact and as quickly as it began, Mr. Potter averted his eyes forwards. 

Upon closer inspection, Draco could fully see the young gentlemen. Mr. Weasley was a tall and lanky redhead (borderline ginger). He seemed to exude a rather homely personality, kind and generous and yet slightly clumsy. He wanted to interact with the other guests, saying hello to each one who he passed and giving a few handshakes. Meanwhile, his companion was not the least bit as hospitable.   
Mr. Potter was only slightly shorter than Mr. Weasley, but still stood taller than Draco. With wild dark black hair that curled in every which way, and hazel eyes that seemed darker in the golden lighting, Mr. Potter was a stoic and serious man, one of few words and fewer emotions. With a tight jaw, he gave small nods to passing guests, nothing more than a hello and goodbye. He was darker skinned, only slightly tanner than Hermione, which made Draco believe he lived in a sunny area, perhaps even outside of England. The longer Draco stared at the pair of men, Hermione's smile grew. 

"Well, a pair of cool, mysterious men just purchased estates near your home and you seem to be staring at one of them." 

Draco's cheeks turned from pink to red as he whipped his head away. "Don't be ridiculous, 'Mione" he muttered, taking a sip from his glass. Hermione simply rolled her eyes with a cheeky smirk. Draco's eyes once again wandered to the gentlemen. Vermillion eyes met hazel. Quickly both averted their gaze. Had Mr. Potter been staring at him the entire time? Draco felt his entire body growing hot. He turned to Hermione and told her that he needed to get to a less crowded area, just to be able to cool off a little. Draco pushed and shoved through the group of men and women to find a small corner of the hall that was unoccupied. He took a deep breath and sighed, leaning against the wooden column and taking sips of his drink. Draco was so preoccupied with his drink, he didn't notice a figure approaching him. 

"May I have this dance?"

Draco glanced upwards to find a man towering over him. He must have been at least his father's age, fat and sweating, beady eyes and a pig nose. He made Draco's entire body crawl and his wine tasted bitter. "U-um, No...no thank you," Draco attempted to give a small smile in decline. The man's face twisted into anger, "I don't see you with anyone else, what could possibly be the reason for your decline?" He spat out those words like venom from his tongue and it burned Draco's skin. "Sir, I don't want to dance with you, please leave," he scowled back, suddenly finding himself pressed against the wall, nowhere to go and being surrounded. Draco swallowed, but felt as if a rock was in his throat as a hand ran down his waist. Draco turned his head away from the labored and hot breath of the pig on top of him, bracing himself for whatever disgusting thing would occur. 

The weight upon him suddenly lifted and Draco's face snapped forwards. There, in front of him, was Mr. Potter with the pervert in an arm hold, hurriedly whispering in his ear which made the man's face drop in shock and fear. He suddenly ran off through the crowd, leaving Mr. Potter and a startled Draco. Draco felt a weight lift off of him as he chuckled slightly. "Oh, thank you sir. I honestly didn't know what would get him off-"

"What were you thinking?" 

Draco's face fell at the question, eyes scanning Mr. Potter's face to find nothing but frustration. As if this were Draco's fault!? "Excuse me?" 

"You opened yourself up to intimidation this way. Why did you leave your friends?" Mr. Potter's veins throbbed in his neck as he attempted to remain calm. 

"Are you telling me I'm not allowed to take a moment to myself? As if I'm the one who asked that disgusting man to drape himself upon me?" Draco huffed, crossing his arms. 

"You left yourself vulnerable to all the men in this room! By ostracizing yourself, you've given the signal that you're- you're some promiscuous waif!" Mr. Potter's tone rose, more agitated, more frustrated. Draco didn't notice that the two of them were slowly gravitating towards each other, almost chest to chest. 

"Promiscuous waif?! My God sir, you don't even know me and yet you make me out to be some kind of...of harlot??" 

"Well, by the way you're dressed and your aloof demeanor-" 

"HOW I'M DRESSED?" Draco exclaimed, "Now please! Please tell me how I'm dressed!" Draco was becoming pink in the face from the arguing, his blush running down from his cheeks, to his neck, to his chest and collarbones. His decalotage grew a lovely rose color. Mr. Potter's eyes scanned Draco's body and Draco noticed how his pupils seemed to blow slightly. The man cleared his throat and stood up straight, adjusting his necktie and suit. "I don't wish to discuss this all night. I'll be taking my leave now." 

And like that, the man was gone. He pushed through the crowd to rejoin Mr. Weasley who had begun talking to Hermione. Draco's blood boiled. How dare this man speak to him in such a way! Talking to him as if they were friends, as if he knew anything about Draco at all! What an arrogant, stupid, chauvanistic man! Draco stomped back to Hermione, whispering to her that he wished to go home now. Draco refused to look Mr. Potter in the eyes as he bowed and said goodbye to Mr. Weasley, then dragging Hermione away towards the exit. Draco didn't notice that his ribbon that kept his hair together had come undone and fell onto the ground, letting his long hair flow and billow around him. He was in such a frustrated state, he didn't even notice this change. The ribbon fluttered to the ground, vulnerable to being stepped upon. Mr. Potter walked up to the ribbon and bent down, slowly picking it up. He rubbed the material between his fingers, feeling the soft lacey satin. He shoved the ribbon into his pocket.   
\---

"I received a letter in the mail," Hermione glowed. It was the day after the party and Draco was still in a sour mood from his confrontation with a certain arrogant man and from the loss of his mother's ribbon. 

"Oh? And what did it say?" He muttered in disinterest as he slowly chewed on his jam and toast, replaying the scene over and over in his head. 

"It was from your neighbor, Mr. Weasley!" Hermione said as she passed the parchment to Draco. Draco glanced upon the sloppy cursive letter. "He's invited me to his home!" 

"That fool? Please Hermione, you could do much better. He's less than distinguished" 

"Don't be like that, he's quite kind. A bit goofy, sure, but kind nonetheless." Hermione snatched the letter back, rolling her eyes as Draco's face scrunched up in distaste. "He's sweet and funny and interesting-"

"And rich" 

"I didn't even think of that, Draco! I don't care if he's rich or bloody poor!" Hermione sipped her tea and set it back down with a clank of ceramic. "I didn't see you after Mr. Weasley arrived with his companion. Where did you go?" 

"Let's just say his companion is the type of man I detest," Draco grit his teeth. "He's absolutely terrible! A real piece of work, that one!" Draco glanced over to Hermione, who was staring back at him with a dopey look on her face. "What?" 

"Come on, those are the types of men you like~ you always have enjoyed a challenge. Besides, I do remember him being dark, brooding, handsome-"

"Annoying, arrogant, a know-it-all."

"Just like you!" Hermione teased. "I just want to see you happy, Draco." Hermione's fingers threaded through Draco's hair, combing through the mess of bedhead. "You two would make a handsome couple, indeed." 

"I doubt I'd ever see him again"

"You don't know that, perhaps he'll be at Mr. Weasley's home! You should come with me!!" Hermione gleamed, gripping Draco's hands. "Please! Come with me please!! I don't want to go alone, I can't! I shan't" 

Draco sighed and whined, "You know I can't say no when you beg like so, fine, I shall join you. But I cannot promise I will play nice with Mr. Potter, for I truly find no good qualities in the man except his overfilled pocketbook."   
\---  
The ride to Derbyshire took one hour to walk, thirty minutes in a carriage. Hermione had dressed up in her prettiest dress, petticoat and bonnet as white as snow. Draco had teased her enthusiasm, but found himself wearing his hair in a braid and in his nicer Sunday clothes. The Derbyshire estate was a magnificent palace of opulence, golden fixtures along with marble floors and Grecian columns. Crystal chandeliers lined the ceilings and Italian frescos adorned the walls. Much fancier and grander than Draco's home, Draco suddenly felt a bit self-conscious, small and feeble. His nicest clothing couldn't even compare to the maids' uniforms. A butler had assisted the two to the main lounging room, where Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley were relaxing. 

"I present, Ms. Granger and Mr. Malfoy" 

Upon seeing Draco, Mr. Potter shot up from his seat, bowing deeply. Mr. Weasley bowed as well, except in a more natural and friendly demeanor. Hermione blushed vibrantly when Mr. Weasley kissed the back of her hand. Draco smiled at her, happy that she and him were getting along well. When Draco turned back to Mr. Potter, those dark eyes were once again staring at him, searching him, trying desperately to understand him. 

"Well don't you two look lovely," Mr. Weasley smiled, sitting back down on the sofa. "As pretty as two pictures." 

"You're too kind, Mr. Weasley," Hermione smiled, trying her hardest not to seem overeager. 

"Please, call me Ronald..or Ron, if you so wish." 

A maid came and provided an assortment of tea and cookies, cakes and pastries from France, all colorfully decorated and sugary sweet. Draco reached over to take one of the tea cups, not noticing that Mr. Potter had also been reaching for it. Their fingers brushed slightly and Mr. Potter retracted his hand as if he were burned. Draco blushed slightly, taking the cup as carefully as possible and bringing it to his lips. Mr. Potter watched with fiery intensity as Draco's plush pink lips curled. 

"Mr. Potter! I didn't get to speak to you much at the party, what brings you to England? I hear that you lived in the South of France for a year or two," Hermione inquired as she ate a small sandwich. 

"Yes, I spent two years living in Nice, I own a winery and vineyard down there." The answer was curt and concise, much like the man who gave it. The conversation ended as soon as it began and everyone began to feel uncomfortable with the silence. 

"Mr. Malfoy and I met so briefly at the party, I wished to discuss with you more," Ron smiled, nodding his head. "Please, tell me, what do you do." 

Draco gulped slightly. "I don't work as of now, but I do enjoy reading and poetry. I garden sometimes and embroider small pieces. My parents would prefer I not work, they would rather I learn trades of the home."

"You indulge in women's work?" Mr. Potter abruptly asked. Draco's head whipped around towards the man, eyes narrowed. 

"You deem it women's work, but if you had ever actually gotten your hands dirty before, you'd know how tedious a task it could be." Draco spat out with as much venom and disdain as he could muster, not caring that Hermione was nudging him to stop talking. 

"I have no problems believing it to be tedious work, Mr. Malfoy, but I believe as a male, you have a responsibility to work in the laborious fashion instead of at home," Mr. Potter's eyes traveled up and down Draco, finally his eyes falling upon his delicate frame and long hair. "But perhaps women's work is more suited to your tastes." 

Draco gasped, setting down his tea cup with a loud clunk that rang and echoed throughout the room, "Oh, what ancient thinking you have, Mr. Potter. And here I was to believe money and class was to make a man above petty beliefs, but it seems that it only causes a man to become ignorant and crass!" 

"Well! Perhaps we should show our guests the estate, Harry. That should liven our spirits," Ron blurted out, taking Hermione by the hand to help her off the couch. Draco took note of Mr. Potter's name, Harry. Mr. Potter stood up from his spot and walked up to where Draco was seated. He held his hand out for Draco to hold, a large and calloused hand that seemed it would engulf Draco's smaller, daintier one. This made Draco roll his eyes. The blonde ignored Harry's hand and simply stood up on his own, following the other two as they left the room. Harry retreated his hand, curling his fingers at his side as he followed.


	3. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Harry have a moment or two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment guys! They really help me and encourage me. Thank you so much for reading! (*＾3＾)/～♡

Somewhere along the way, Draco lost the rest of the crowd. Blaming it on the absolutely labyrinthine way the estate was built, Draco began to wander on his own. The entire mansion was an art piece in of itself. Draco had never been surrounded by so many priceless masterpieces; he felt as if he were in the Louvre. Beautiful paintings, enchanting statues, absolutely delicate china cups and plates. Draco's eyes twinkled with delight upon each one. Strolling slowly through the halls, the piercing silence was cut by the sound of his heels clicking across the marble tiles. The sunlight seeped through crystalline windows and shined against his flaxen blonde hair. As he walked through, eyes scanning through each portrait, he came across one in particular. A young lady, ashy blonde hair tied into a bun with her pale face turned downwards. She was reading, her eyes focused on the pages. Her pale skin contrasted with the lemon yellow of her dress. Draco found himself inching closer and closer, a hand reaching out as if to touch the paint. 

"That painting costs quite a lot of money and I would rather you not sully it with your fingers." 

Draco quickly pulled back his fingers, cradling them in his chest as he whipped around and away from the painting. "I'm so so-" Draco turned pink in the cheeks as he was confronted with Harry, his arms folded and a quizzical raised eyebrow. Draco's sudden shock turned into annoyance. Harry cooly drifted from where he was, suddenly next to Draco and staring up at the painting as well. Draco's eyes shifted between Harry and the painting. The closeness was burning and Draco fought the urge to fidget in his spot. He turned his focus back to the painting, trying not to seem nervous. He took notice of the small details, the way her fingers curled around the spine of her book, the turn of her nose, the slope of her lips. 

"She's lovely," Draco said softly, only loud enough for Harry to hear, enrapt in the beauty of the portrait, "Don't you think?" Draco turned his head and found himself face-to-face with Harry. The man had once again been staring at him, intensely and deeply. His eyes met Draco's and the blonde had blushed deeply at the way Harry's pupils expanded. Harry quickly turned his head back to the painting, clearing his throat and fixing his tie.

"Ye-yes. Quite lovely, indeed." Harry's voice was gruff, as if he were holding his breath, as if he hadn't taken a single breath until this moment. Harry's voice was deep, as deep as the ocean and the thick forest just outside of Derbyshire. Draco suddenly realized he could get lost just by listening to Harry's voice. The thought made him anxious, suddenly aware that the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up and goosebumps erupted on his porcelain skin. Harry opened his mouth slightly to speak once more, but Draco had already fluttered off. He had needed to remove himself from Harry's side, lest he turn dark red and stammer over his words. 

"Where, oh where, has my dear Hermione gone?" Draco asked, slightly fanning himself and willing his blush to go down. 

"Ms. Granger has accompanied Mr. Weasley in the rose garden," Harry added as he followed along. 

"I see.. I'm glad those two have become such close friends. I secretly pray for their happiness," Draco smiled softly, his heart swelling at the thought of his friend happy and in love. Harry remained silent. 

"A shame, really. I was hoping to see the rest of the house," Draco drawled on, his fingers shifting and twirling down drapery and statues. 

"It would be my honor to show you the rest of the estate." 

Draco's eyebrow raised and he crossed his arms, leaning against a column. "Oh? And here I was under the impression that I was a precocious waif," Draco hadn't mean such vitriol to spill from his mouth, but it came like a torrent, an unstoppable force. He watched as Harry swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing. 

"I had never implied that you were. I simply wished to inform you that was what you looked like at the time." It was deadpanned and stale and yet it cut deep into Draco's skin and the boy couldn't help but flinch. 

"I assure you old man, at my age my clothes are popular amongst the youth. The height of fashion back in London." Draco smirked, taunting the man in front of him. Draco was at least 7 years Harry's junior and the gap had made it all the more fun to tease. 

"I'm only 25 years old and yet you insist I am already elderly? Then perhaps it would be correct of me to call you an impertinent little child," Harry snapped back, lips curling with satisfaction at the sight of Draco biting his bottom lip. The younger huffed and twirled on his heel, stomping away. "And may I ask, is your fashion popular with boys? Or in fact, ladies, perhaps?" Harry added, his words digging and digging and digging into Draco's skin until he finally-

Snapped.

Draco stopped dead in his tracks. With a growl that could only remind Harry of an angry kitten, he watched the blonde stomp towards him with fiery passion in his eyes and a scowl on his lips. Harry began backing up until his back was pressed against a wall and Draco was staring up at him, jaw clenched. 

"I detest you," Draco spat. 

"And I loathe you," Harry responded back. His eyes were cloudy with mischief and ice and something dark and murky that Draco couldn't quite put his finger on. With stoney resolve, the two of them entered an endurance match, the one who broke eye contact first would be the loser. 

Their heavy breathes fell onto each other's skin, their eyes never broke contact. Draco felt the heat of Harry's stare on him and like always it burned, burned him from his core and made his skin itch and crawl. The fading sunlight flooded the room and casted a shadow upon Draco's face, illuminating his sharp features and showing the sparkle in his eyes. Draco watched as Harry's hand raised up from his side and found its way to Draco's cheek. With the lightest of touches, he brushed away a lock of icy blonde hair that had fallen. Draco couldn't help but slightly, ever so slightly lean into the touch-

"Oh! So sorry to interrupt!" A maid had appeared with a pile of folded towels in hand. Her presence alarmed Draco and Harry and suddenly, the younger pushed away from the closeness, walking down the hall in an attempt to get as far away as possible. Harry wanted to call out, to tell him to wait. He turned to the maid and told her it was alright, it wasn't her fault, but by the time he turned back, Draco was gone.   
\---

"Where did you run off to, Draco?" Hermione asked as she found him almost running into them. "Last time I checked you weren't behind us!" 

"I had gotten lost inside. No worries." Draco's cheeks were tomato red, much like the setting sun that was draping its arms upon Derbyshire. Harry had stumbled out of the estate and into the garden after Draco, slightly panting and disheveled. Hermione's eyebrows raised and a small smile grew on her lips. Draco whined slightly and pulled Hermione closer. 

"Oh, lovely! You two are just in time for dinner," Ron smiled, wrapping an arm around Harry's shoulders. 

"I think we must be going now-" Draco stuttered, eyes never leaving Harry. 

"Nonsense! You must stay at least for the night!" Ron smiled, escorting everyone into the dining room. "Please, it'd be such a treat to have two lovely guests in my home."

"If you wish to Christen your home with guests, perhaps I suggest a soiree of sorts?" Hermione smiled, taking Draco's hand in hers. "Draco here is a wonderful tailor! He can sew anything really! He could make his and my outfits!" Much to Draco's dismay, Ron's face glowed at the idea. 

"Perfect! I shall plan a party at once! I'll invite the entire town, perhaps even the sentinels!" Ron smiled, "I can't wait to see you in a lovely dress, Ms. Granger." 

"Perhaps Mr. Malfoy would be more suited in a dress as well," Harry muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes at the scalding look Draco whipped in his direction. 

"I shall begin preparations at once, I expect you two to help me with the themes?" Ron asked. 

"How about... masquerade? It's all the rage in France. Quite romantic, don't you think, Mr. Potter?" Hermione asked, smiling teasingly at the serious man who turned a certain paleness. Harry nodded curtly, avoiding Draco's gaze. 

"Then it's settled! A masquerade ball!" Ron mused, smiling at Hermione's excitement.

"God help us all," Draco sighed, feeling the unnerving stare of a certain older man on him. And this time, he smiled slightly at the thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.google.com/search?q=young+girl+reading+fragonard&client=ms-unknown&biw=412&bih=695&tbm=isch&prmd=sinv&sxsrf=ACYBGNQ4wo0H-W0aPzPw5fyt3odXsuOEsQ:1570063044773&source=lnms&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjbv7rQ7P7kAhUDd98KHSWvBvYQ_AUIHygC#imgrc=OXjMRlGPkQg0uM
> 
> Link to the painting btw! It's by French Roccoco artist Fragonard


	4. Masquerade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're starting to get a little spicy folks ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment! Thank you everyone (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

Upon hearing about the Masquerade ball being held in Mr. Weasley's estate, Narcissa began her energized frenzy to prepare outfits for herself as well as Draco and Lucius. Naturally, she had one request for her only child. 

"Mother I won't, will not, wear a dress!" Draco growled, eliciting a little yelp as Narcissa yanked his long hair with the brush, his scalp stinging from the harsh treatment. 

"Please darling, you'd look so pretty! Besides, there will be hundreds of handsome eligible bachelors at the party," Narcissa huffed as she began curling Draco's locks, holding them together and pinning them in place. Draco's hair had been put in small curlers to create loose and wavy ringlets. Narcissa called it 'enchanting' while Draco called it 'ridiculous'. 

"I care not for the eligibility of pig-headed men. They'll drool over anything that walks," Draco muttered bitterly as a servant girl dabbed light pink rouge onto his cheeks. His comment had made the girl giggle, to which Draco smiled fondly. 

"Nevertheless, those pigs can give you a comfortable life, Draco. One where money is not an issue! I just worry for you, my love."

"I assure you mother, my financials will not be an issue. I shall go to London and open my own shoppe. Perhaps a flower store or maybe a seamstress? Or a bakery! Either way, I'll be fine." 

Deep down, Draco had feared becoming something like his mother. She had been married off at a young age, in her prime, and has been a housewife ever since. It wasn't that Draco thought this was a bad life, or a life to be looked down upon, but it wasn't in his nature to just give up his goals and desires for a man. If he were to become someone's wife one day, then so be it, but until then he had no intention of being anyone's lap dog. As a child, Draco could admit that he had fantasized about having a princely husband and numerous children, but as he grew older and more practical, his fantasies became a little more...realistic.

"One dress, for me, please! I'll even let you borrow one of mine," Narcissa begged. "I'm not getting any younger and I wish to see my only child married before then!" 

Draco rolled his eyes at the obvious attempt at a guilt-trip. "Fine mother, I will do as you wish. I will not, however, have this dress be wild and opulent. I don't wish to stand out as much as I need to." 

Narcissa gasped in glee and kissed Draco's cheek, staining his creamy skin with a faint pink tint. "Lovely! Come along," she smiled as she dragged Draco to her room, rummaging through her closet while Draco undoes the curlers in his hair and takes out the pins. His snowy locks fell down in waves like the ocean on the shore, loose and beautiful. He watched as his mother search, finally finding the dress she was looking for. "Here we are!" She said as she pulled out a white gown, straight in shape and form-hugging at the top. With lace embroidery woven into the fabric, the dress looked absolutely angelic. "I wore this dress when I first met your father, I was around your age you know. I assure you that it will bring you good luck tonight," she said as she helped Draco into it, tying off the bow in the back. Draco looked at himself in the mirror once it was dawned on him. He looked like something out of a fairytale, a fair maiden. Virginal, pure, untouched and perfect. Draco was absolutely embarrassed by it. He couldn't help but feel like he was dressed as a blushing bride. Perhaps this was his mother's intentions all along, dressing him for the part. Before Draco could protest, Narcissa swooned, cooing over him and smoothing out the dress. 

"Mother...don't you think this is a bit-"

"Perfect! No man could resist you now! Come, let's go show your father!" Narcissa once again grabbed Draco by the hand and dragged him to the living room, where Lucius was seated, waiting for his wife and son to be ready. "Husband! Don't you think our son looks absolutely ravishing? He'll be the prettiest one there!" 

Lucius glanced up from his book, his eyes scanning Draco. With a warm smile, he nodded and set down the book he was reading. "My Draco has always been the prettiest," Lucius sighed, standing up to grab his coat and cane.

"He'll find a husband in no time!" Narcissa smiled, fixing her hair in the mirror. Lucius simply tutted, "He has plenty of time for that, Narcissa. He's just a boy." 

"He's 18! He's well over the age where people get married, Lucius!" 

"Oh, don't you know how to make me sound like a cattle being sold," Draco snapped at his mother, hearing the rumble of soft laughter in his father's chest. The action made him feel warm inside, affection swimming through him. Lucius brought a gloved hand up to Draco's head and tousled his hair affectionately, making Draco whine in annoyance, trying desperately to smooth his hair back down. 

"He has to look absolutely fetching for tonight, Lucius, please do not ruin his hair! I assure that he'll catch the eye of many tonight, hopefully Mr. Weasley~" Narcissa hinted, wagging her eyebrow. 

"I assure you mother, Mr. Weasley has more than been taken by Hermione, not that he suits my tastes anyways," Draco drawled, picking at the dirt underneath his nails. 

"Oh? Then perhaps Mr. Potter? He was quite handsome, was he not?" 

Draco's head snapped up, cheeks turning pink. He averted his gaze, attempting to hide his face from his mother and father. Lucius' eyebrow raised in intrigue. 

"Should I be expecting a future son-in-law?" Lucius asked with a teasing smirk, chuckling at the way Draco fumed and spat out a breathless 'No!'  
\---

The entire mansion was covered in flowing satin drapery, crystals flowing from the ceiling, decadent foods being passed around. The outside chateau was littered with carriages, the buzzing of excited guests filing into the glittering estate. Footmen guided each guest into the main ballroom where lively and opulent pandemonium occurred. A string orchestra played jaunty music and guests were invited to dance along. Laughter and merriment filled the ears of Draco, who suddenly felt overwhelmed when he entered the party. Technicolored dresses and masks fluttered like leaves in the wind as they twirled around the ballroom. Draco had donned a white feather mask with golden trim, matching his otherwise angelic dress. He had felt embarrassed, he was the only one in a pure white dress and this had made him feel slightly childish. The other ladies, how elegant and regal they were in their beautifully vibrant dresses, dripping in jewelry that nuzzled into their ample bosoms. Compared to these women, Draco felt like a meager child, playing dress up in a room full of adults. In that moment, when he saw how these women were fawned over by the men of the court, Draco slightly resented his mother and her obsession with painting and dressing Draco as if he were a porcelain china doll. 

It was difficult to find Hermione in the masses, but eventually Draco was able to track her down. She wore a light pink dress, almost periwinkle in the shadows. Her mask was a lovely white and blue and reminded Draco of violets growing by his home. She was slightly breathless, she must have been dancing before or perhaps it was the warmth radiating from the multitude of bodies that were writhing against each other. 

"Amazing isn't it?! Ron did a fantastic job!" Hermione exclaimed, taking Draco by the hands. 

"Ronald? Are we on a first name basis now?" Draco teased, causing the girl to blush and giggle much like she had drunk one too many champagne flutes. 

"Come! Let's dance, Draco! You look too pretty to be ushered into the corner!" Hermione whined, pulling Draco along deeper into the party, passed the flurry of rainbow masks. It was hard to decipher just exactly who was underneath each one, but the not knowing had caused a thrum of excitement to erupt through Draco's stomach into his chest. Hermione passed him a flute of champagne and Draco sipped at it gracefully. The light bubbles burst on his tongue and Draco found himself drinking it faster than he expected. His cheeks flushed a rosey pink that matched the pink of his lips. Hermione pulled Draco closer and whispered in his ear, "Aren't the soldiers handsome?" She smiles, nodding over to a group of decorated men, all dressed in their militia regalia. Draco couldn't help but break into a deeper blush and giggle when one of the men glanced over to him and smiled, nodding his hat.

"What if they're positively hideous underneath those masks?" Draco teased. 

"They couldn't be! Those eyes are just too soulful to be hideous!" 

Draco didn't notice when a hand slid up to grab his waist, startling him slightly and causing him to jump. The man whomst the hand belonged to began to laugh heartily, doubled over by the stomach. Draco could tell it was Mr. Weasley by his bright orange floppy mop of hair . Draco rolled his eyes. "You scared the living daylights out of me!" 

"Well don't you look like an angel! Absolutely heavenly!" Ron drawled, kissing Draco's knuckles with an obnoxious smack of his lips. The man was obviously tipsy. "And you look quite dashing," Draco smiled back. In the corner of his eye, he could tell someone was watching him. He could feel the familiar deep burn in the pit of his stomach that flushed to his chest. In the corner of his eye he could see a dark figure, nestled away amongst the crowd. Draco was snapped back to attention when he was being whisked away once again. 

After about an hour, Draco and Hermione found themselves in a secluded area, away from the commotion of the party. They tittered away, making a note of the other guests and making fun of some of them. Hermione was pulled away by Ron and although Draco was happy for her, he felt slightly lonely now that his only friend at the party was occupied by another. Standing alone, Draco quietly sipped his champagne, watching the party unfold before him. A light tap on the shoulder alerted him. Draco turned around, only to be faced with the soldier from before. 

"I couldn't help but see an angel has fallen from heaven," he drawled. Draco could only make out the bottom portion of his face but from what he saw, he concluded this man must be adequately handsome with a strong jaw and light stubble. With a renewed confidence fueled by alcohol, Draco's lips curled into a smile. 

"Oh?" Draco asked, "And how do you know I'm an angel?" He asked, a twinkle in his eye. 

The man approached closer, pinning Draco to the wall by pressing his chest against Draco's small frame. Draco's confidence was high and his inhibitions were low and perhaps if he wasn't drunk, he wouldn't allow the man to wrap an arm around Draco's slim waist. 

"I could tell, you see, I saw an aura around you. As if you had a halo," the man smirked, toothy, Draco noted as hot breath hit his neck. 

"Then you must be the devil, tempting this angel away," Draco purred, shivering at the feeling of a strong hand on his waist, stroking softly on top of thin material. "And may I see the face of my devil?" 

"Wouldn't that ruin the fun? The curiosity is delicious, isn't it?" 

"I suppose so, but if patience is a virtue, perhaps I'm not as angelic as I seem." Draco's lips ghosted over the mystery man's only to be pulled away at the sound of a booming voice.

"Mr. Nott," said a voice that Draco could recognize from any crowd. The two of them peered over to the man dressed in all black, looming over them like death himself. Draco felt his heart race. 

Harry Potter. 

The man that Draco now knew was 'Mr. Nott' pulled away from him. He straightened himself out, looking straight at Harry. Neither of them waived from their stances. "Mr. Potter, what a pleasure to see you again," Mr. Nott smiled, but his eyes were dead. 

"I see you've met Mr. Malfoy," Harry deadpanned, eyes shifting over to Draco and Draco could swear he saw them soften, even just a little. "I'm sorry to be interrupting your conversation." 

"Not at all, I must be getting back to my companions anyways." Mr. Nott turned to Draco and took him by the hand, kissing it softly. "Until we meet again, Angel." He turned on his heel and sauntered off back to his friends. 

Draco turned to Harry with a scowl on his face. 

"What? Am I not allowed to converse with someone other than yourself?" Draco sneered. His grimace turned shy when he noticed the way Harry was staring at him. Although the man's face was obscured by a shiny black mask, Draco could see Harry's hazel eyes scanning him up and down, taking in his appearance. Harry's own cheeks turned slightly pink at the sight and Draco couldn't help but feel a buzz in his stomach, was it the alcohol? 

"You look…"

"..."

Harry coughed slightly, "Yes, well, you look acceptable." 

"Oh? No brazen insults this time?" 

"I could say you have damn right bad taste in men." 

Draco gasped. "Excuse me? What do you know of my tastes?" He crossed his arms in annoyance. 

"Well you seem to draw all types of unwanted attention, let alone from undesirable men."

"And what, may I ask, is so undesirable about Mr. Nott? You seem to know him well." 

Harry stilled, his lips curling into a frown. "The man is a liar and a cheat. I don't wish to see you consorting with the lowest of men. But I will say, you seemed quite comfortable with him, perhaps you're just as wanton as I originally thought." 

Draco growled and rolled his eyes, "I don't need this, I don't wish to waste a lovely party." He was about to stop off before he was pulled back in by the arm. Draco whipped around to scowl once more. 

"The music has begun and it would be rather unsightly for us to just leave the dance floor," Harry whispered in hushed tones, "As much as you may detest me, I implore you resist the urge to storm off as we do this." Harry scooped up Draco by the waist and hand, gliding across the floor in unison with the other dance partners. The music had flooded the room and Draco couldn't break eye contact with Harry. Resentment and anger bubbled up underneath as the two of them were pulled together, chest to chest. Draco searched Harry's eyes and found once again an emotion he could not put his finger on. The dancing had caused the two of them to pant, hot breath hitting each other's faces. Draco found his heart racing in a way it hadn't been with Mr. Nott. His entire body trembled as Harry's hand rested lower on his hip. His confidence shriveled and once more, Draco found himself feeling like a naive child, shy and embarrassed. Harry's eyes were cooly watching him, showing no sign of fluster. 

In an attempt to hide his face, Draco buried himself into Harry's neck, hoping to restore some semblance of confidence. His skin erupted in goosebumps as he felt Harry's lips near his ear. 

"You look like an angel." 

Many times Draco had heard this phrase tonight, from his mother to Hermione to Ronald to Mr. Nott.  
None of them had caused Draco to melt the way Harry had. 

The song ended and the two broke apart reluctantly. Draco's blush roamed from his cheeks to his ears to his chest, strawberry pink like the desserts being served. Draco found himself hot, too hot and almost gasping for air. He began to scurry away from Harry, away from the dancing and the flurry of people to go to the balcony overlooking the gardens. The fresh wind felt cool on his skin and Draco took large gasps of air. He pulled off his mask in a hurry, cheeks too hot for a feathered cover. Harry had followed him outside, pulling off his own mask as well, holding a glass of water for Draco. Draco accepted it without words and downed the glass. 

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. "For someone with such a sour personality, you are quite cute sometimes." 

Draco frowned and shoved the glass back into Harry's hands. "I in no way attempt to be cute for your sake, Mr. Potter. Do realise that you come off as a perverted old lech when you tease me so." 

"What a foul mouth for one so young. If I had known any better, I would say I'm standing with a sailor." Harry smirked, causing Draco to shy away. 

"I'm 18, I'm not so young." 

"I suppose not, you are old enough to marry and have children. Hopefully your future husband is as good looking as I," Harry teased, causing Draco to wince. 

"In no way am I ever going to marry if marrying means being tied down to a man who is anything like you," Draco spat like a kitten hissing. 

Harry simply rolled his eyes, chuckling. "Please, I can see right through that prickly exterior. You wish for a husband to put you in your place, be firm with you," Harry's eyes dragged over Draco's blushing face, "Dominate you." 

Draco could do nothing but gawk. "How dare you, sir! Disgusting man! I assure you I will never marry! Marriage is a certain death!" he pushed past Harry to the party, wishing not to let the older man see his trembling lips or shaking hands. Draco wished to go home, he wished to never see Harry Potter again, the man who has confused him and the man he hated and the man who made him feel a fire in his stomach and the man who sounded like deep molasses dripping on Draco's lips. Draco could only reach so far before he was once again pulled back, back onto the balcony and fixed between Harry's arms. Pinned down by two hands on either side of him, Draco could see what could only be described as pain on Harry's face. They remained silent for a few seconds. Harry spoke up first. 

"You confuse me, Mr. Malfoy. I have never been so intrigued and yet angered by a person before. I find myself seeking you out against my own wishes and I cannot say why. I must be possessed, you have bewitched me, you unholy thing. Dressed like an angel you may be, but I see you for what you are, devilish temptress." Harry's teeth were gritted, jaw locked and the vein in his neck bulged. 

A hand raised to cup Draco's cheek and it was as soft as snow, Harry noticed. Harry's thumb caressed the expanse of Draco's face, dragging down over his bottom lip, plump and pink. Draco's eyes were as wide as a startled doe, sweet and wonderfilled. Harry had frightened him, that much he knew. His feelings were scary, to say the least. Fingers trailing down to lift Draco's chin slightly, Harry sighed.  
"Too young, too naive. You know not of how you lure in men, as weak as myself. I find myself teetering between two versions of you. Angelic and sweet, mischievous seductor." 

Draco still has not spoken a word, too shocked to speak. He gulped softly as Harry pulled away, hand reaching up to straighten his coat and smooth back his hair. Draco felt his knees buckle, gripping the granite balusters for stability. He felt sick, he felt elated, he felt angry, he felt scared. Too many emotions to understand, so little time to do it in. Harry had walked away, disappearing into the masses of men and women, a mask lost amongst the other masks.


	5. Insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry recalls memories and feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment :) ❤️ I've been recently informed that Draco has grey eyes, not green so please forgive that little oopsie. If you see that in previous chapters, I'm sorry lol from now on I'll try to fix that

Harry Potter had never been a religious man. Although most of his childhood had consisted of his mother and father dragging him to Sunday masses and whispering fake confessions to a priest, Harry had never considered himself pious or holy. He had mostly slept through masses, being nudged awake by his mother with a tsk. He almost never prayed, feeling that it was silly and borderline ridiculous to speak to an entity he didn't believe in. Harry scoffed at the preaching zealots on the streets, regarding them as fools who devoted their lives to a nothing god. A man of practicality and material, Harry couldn't find the merit in believing something that he couldn't prove or see with his own two eyes. Consider him a robust man of industry, but if Harry couldn't have it tangibly, he didn't want it. 

But then again, he's felt the swells of tears in his eyes while studying French art in the academies, gazing upon depictions of the Immaculate Conception, of the Pieta, of the Crucifixion. He's felt his chest constricting when he gazed upon the face of Mother Mary, her peaceful serenity balanced against sorrowful agony as she cradles her dead son in her arms. Harry doesn't suppose this makes him religious, he supposes it makes him human. And why shouldn't Harry have an affinity for the finer things in life, the beautiful and the divine? He's surely worked for them and he's used to getting the things he wants. Harry knows this is against the Catholic ideals of 'giving' and 'charity' but it's perhaps because he doesn't believe in God that he could justify his rather cold demeanor. 

Nothing warms Harry's heart like the sight of a certain angel. Harry's not religious in the slightest, detesting the idea of it really, and yet he cannot help but believe that an ethereal being walks among them. Mr. Malfoy… Draco. He's nothing like Harry's ever seen before. Usually calm and stoic, Harry couldn't help but be embarrassed at his slight outburst at the night of the Masquerade. He doesn't know what came over him, but it must have been the Devil taunting him (once again, Harry Potter doesn't believe in the Devil). Draco Malfoy, cunning and sly fox, sweet and gentle doe, antagonizer of Harry's heart. And here Harry lies, in bed and staring up at his ceiling, reliving his aggressive confession over and over again in his head. It had been two nights since the party and Harry hadn't seen anything of Mr. Malfoy. 

In his 25 years of life, Harry's never felt so unhinged, so shaken up and rambunctious. He worries if he falls asleep, he'll dream of a certain silver-haired vixen. And that would be awful, would it not? Harry isn't entirely sure what transpired that night. The four or five or six or seven flutes of champagne he had consumed made sure he was left with a hazy memory of the party's events. He does remember certain snippets though; remembers Draco talking to Mr. Nott, the disgusting cad. Harry was unsure why this interaction had fueled a fire in him so hot that it forced his legs to transverse the dance floor, tap on Mr. Notts shoulder, and effectively break the two up. He knew what the man wanted, he knew what he was thinking. Seizing up Draco from across the floor, Theodore Nott wanted nothing but a subservient wife to pump into and pop out kids. A disgusting man, absolutely irreprehensible. 

Harry's mind began to wander, not wishing to focus on the idea of Mr. Nott any longer. He turned in his bed, the sheets drawing closer to his chest. Harry remembers speaking about marriage with Draco. How embarrassing he must have been. He remembers those soft eyes, icy and yet warm. They were wide, shocked and slightly glassy. Had Harry said something to offend him? Damn the alcohol, damn it all to hell. From now on, Harry drinks nothing but tea and coffee (and the occasional glass of wine). Harry definitely remembered speaking about marriage with the younger. 

He remembers Draco was dressed like a bride. 

As a child, Harry never gave too much thought towards marriage. He was the only child of his father, after all, he would be receiving the family property. Nothing of the sacrament really interested him before. He enjoyed his alone time, reveling in solitude. A wife and children would only be bothersome and besides, he had never found interest in the empty-headed and superficial women he came across on his travels. Each one of them flashing wicked smiles and fluttering eyelashes the minute Harry had shown anything of his wealth. It was off-putting to say the least, these women groveling at his feet just because he was of good financial standing. 

And yet, he had dragged Draco out onto the veranda. He whipped him around, pinning him to the fence. Harry bared his teeth and snarled at the frightened little doll of a boy in front of him, speaking of angels and devils and bewitching smiles. Harry in that moment could envision himself marrying the boy. Draco in a white gown, Draco in his home, Draco carrying his children, Draco in his bed.  
Harry was not a religious man and yet this temptation disguised in human flesh is on the verge of making him confess on his knees. It was a terrible temptation, a mere fantasy. Harry should know better and he turns in bed once more. 

It's hard to sleep when a figure haunts your dreams and leaves you in a hot and mangled mess in your sheets. Harry didn't understand his feelings towards a certain snow-haired boy. Draco Malfoy was infuriating, conceited and terribly unpolished. He was arrogant, childish, and crude. And yet...Harry couldn't help but feel magnetized towards the boy, the beautiful boy with soft white skin and lovely pink cheeks and clouded grey, slate eyes. Harry couldn't help but seek out the witty, playful, teasing, adorable, flustered….

Harry was losing himself. 

As if Harry had never met a lovely person before, one that was radiant in all aspects. He's been with multiple women, each as fair and beautiful as the last. It wasn't that Harry found himself devoid of enchanting bed partners, so what was it that made this one so beguiling? So intriguing and mysterious and addicting? 

Why did this boy make him want to fall onto his knees in front of a church and plead his sins to God? 

Harry's eyes darted over to his drawer. He rolled himself over, sheets wrapping around his naked torso and shifting down his body. With an outstretched arm, he clumsily opened his side table drawer, trying his best to remain quiet. His fingers scoured the inside until he felt a soft and silken material. With a satisfied feeling in his stomach, Harry pulled out the item. Draco's pretty white ribbon, lacey and dainty and preserved so delicately. Harry rubbed his fingers against the material, then bringing it up to his nose and inhaling the lingering scent of Draco's hair. Harry had kept it, not being able to bring himself to part with the ribbon. It was a memento of the first night they met. It was ridiculous, the thought of even keeping such a thing. Borderline obsessive. 

Harry held it to his chest, curled up in his tight fist, and slept.


	6. I admit nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco admits some feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment! Thank you :)

Draco avoided Derbyshire like the plague for the past week. Much to his mother's chagrin, the snow haired boy couldn't bear the embarrassment that would be coming face to face with a certain dark-haired individual. It was as if Harry was possessed, speaking in tongues and chanting velvet temptations into Draco's ear, grip hot and heavy on fragile wrists. Fire lit up every nerve and vein through Draco's body and goosebumps erupted through porcelain skin. Draco remembers those wild eyes, how intensely they burned into his skin and froze Draco against that marble veranda banister. Draco could remember his lips, his wild hair and the veins bulging in his neck and the way his eyes roamed Draco's body as if he were prey. The silver-haired boy could feel electricity roaming up and down his body from head to toes and he remembers how badly he wished to reach out and grab the man by his lapels and- 

"Draco? Are you alright?" 

Stormy grey eyes snapped up and met warm hazel. Hermione stared Draco down, worry etched on her face. Draco looked down at the fabric clutched tightly in his fingers, so harshly that his knuckles turned pink and white. He let go of it suddenly, letting Hermione pluck it from his grip. Right, they were in town, picking fabrics. It must have slipped Draco's mind. 

"You seem lost, thinking about something? Or...someone?" She smirked, causing the other to roll his eyes and tsk. 

"I assure you, I have no idea what you're talking about," Draco huffed, sauntering off to the next aisle. Hermione trailed behind, arms behind her back and teasing grin on her thin pink lips. 

"I believe you know exactly of whom I speak. A certain Mr. Potter? Debonair businessman and dashing gentlemen?" 

Draco scoffed and let out a breathy, sarcastic chuckle. "Gentlemen?! That cad?? Trust me 'Mione, he is no gentlemen. Devilish brute more like it." Draco picked at the woolen materials, running his fingers through them absent-mindedly. 

"Oh come on, I've seen with my very eyes the longing stares he gives you, and you him. Hermione pulled away the material from Draco, forcing the boy to look towards her. "You're absolutely smitten!" 

Draco's snowy skin erupted into pink petals, trailing down his face to his neck to most definitely the clothed parts of his body. Draco? Smitten? For that ridiculous and stodgy man? He could laugh at the very idea! Draco's face burned at the idea. He turned to Hermione, who's eyebrows were turned upwards in amusement, watching Draco stutter and stammer over his objections. 

"You'll have a Spring wedding! Oh, you'll be the prettiest bride, Draco!" Hermione teased, twirling Draco around as they exited the shoppe. The boy whined, demanding Hermione stop as he felt his footing tangle and soon enough, Draco found himself falling backwards. The panic and fear lodged itself in Draco's throat as he braced himself to fall onto the cold, hard ground. No such pain came. In fact, Draco fell against a solid and warm structure, two arms suddenly snaking their way around his lithe waist. Draco stumbled back to his feet, dusting off and fixing his clothes as he apologized profusely, eyes drawn downwards. 

"Why isn't it my angel in disguise!" 

Draco's eyes darted upwards, face to face (more like face to chest) with a familiar person. Draco gasped. "Mr. Nott!" The man had been dressed in his usual militia regalia, but no mask to obscure his face this time. Draco felt his chest constrict slightly as the man smiled down at him fondly. 

"Mr. Nott's my father, please, call me Theodore." 

"O-oh, Theodore. What brings you to town?" Draco asked, twirling his locks of hair nervously, suddenly more school girl than a grown man. Theodore took off his army hat, holding it to his chest. 

"Well, the militia likes to boost morale by letting their cadets roam the town on the weekends, as long as we are back within the hour. And what a lovely hour indeed, for I found myself a pretty little thing." Theodore purred, brushing the stray locks of hair dangling down Draco's face behind his ear. The boy giggled nervously, eyes wide and sweet. 

A small clearing of the throat alerted the two. They turned their heads to find Hermione staring at them, hands on her hips and cocked head. 

"Oh, please.. let me introduce you-" Draco was suddenly cut off. 

"Hello, my name is Hermione Granger. And you are…?" Her tone came out brash, harsher than Draco had ever heard he speak before. He raised an eyebrow as Hermione introduced herself to Theodore, bowing curtly. "How do you know Draco? You two seem awfully well acquainted" She asked, which earned her a small shove from the boy in question.

"Ah, well I met Mr. Malfoy at Mr. Weasley's gala, and the two of us seemed to have hit it off," Theodore grinned over at Draco, who blushed deeply and averted his eyes, trying to hide his growing smile. Hermione was less enthused. She hummed and nodded her head. 

"Oh? The gala was quite lovely, wasn't it? I do remember how beautiful Draco was. Oh! And how nicely he looked next to Mr. Potter. Do you know him? Draco had spent much of the night tucked into his side. It was quite dreamy wasn't it?" 

"Hermione!" Draco whined, shaking the girl slightly in a feeble attempt to have her shush up. Draco turned to Theodore, unsure if he was about to deny the statement entirely or apologize with enthusiasm. Theodore simply smiled politely. "Yes, I know Mr. Potter. He and I were old school mates, you know it is." The brass church bells rang out at the stroke of the hour and Theodore sighed with disappointment. "Well, I suppose that's my cue to rejoin my troops." He turned to Hermione and bowed, "A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Granger." He then turned to Draco, taking his delicate hand in his and kissed the back of it with a mischievous smirk on his lips. "And it was an immense pleasure to see you again, Mr. Malfoy." 

As Theodore turned around to catch up to his companions, Draco hadn't noticed the scowl that left Hermione's lips. "What an insufferable man," she mused. 

"And what's wrong with him? He was perfectly polite." Draco scoffed, strolling along the dirt path back towards his home. Hermione ran after him, trying to keep up with Draco's accelerating pace. 

"He's a phony, Draco! He's too perfect. I assure you, he's no match against Mr. Potter." 

Draco stopped in his tracks and whipped around to his friend. "That's why you object him?? Because you're infatuated with the idea of my and Mr. Potter's relationship. I assure you, 'Mione, Mr. Potter and I are nothing but cordial." 

"Now I know for a fact that's untrue! He adores you! The way he looks at you as if you were the moon and he a lonely poet wishing to write of your beauty! It's all so endearing. He's absolutely enthralled by you, Draco. I bet he fantasizes about your life together, domestic bliss~" 

"Hush you! I would rather die than allow that man to touch me in any capacity," Draco declared, puffing out his chest and rolling his eyes. "I swear, you're just as bad as my mother. If it were up to you two, I'd have been married off at the tender age of 16!" 

"What's your objection to Mr. Potter?! He's more than qualified, no?" Hermione whined, gripping onto Draco's arm. "Tall, dark, handsome, wealthy, intelligent, polite...I could go on." 

"Then perhaps you should marry him if you think him so!" 

"Oh no, you two are a match made in heaven. Both of you are as hard-headed and stubborn as the next. You'd keep yourselves endless amused." Hermione stopped Draco and whipped him around. "He's quite fit as well, no? Very strong~ I bet having those grand biceps cornering you and pinning you down would be quite exhilarating no?" She wagged her eyebrows as she spoke in hushed tones. Draco's thoughts fluttered back to the memory of Harry pinning him back, speaking to him in a hurried tone, tugging him closer and Draco remembers his knees growing weak and his throat growing dry and- 

He should really stop thinking about it. 

"Such lewd thoughts Hermione? Does your mother know you think of such filth?" Draco teased. "I believe that's 20 Hail Mary's for you." 

"Come on, you can't tell me that you've never thought about it before? All in your lonesome?" 

Draco's cheeks grew hot as he rolled his eyes. "Unlike you, I don't waste my time reading tawdry and lust filled novels that I steal from my maids!" Draco stuck out his tongue as Hermione gasped. 

"I DO NOT!" 

"OH, YES YOU DO!" 

"I pray that your first child be a girl then, if you cannot stand lewd behavior. All boys are little deviants waiting to grow into bigger deviants." Hermione tsked. 

Draco's thoughts once again wandered to an image of himself, walking down the street with a stroller in hand, pushing it down through the farmer's market. A child, huh? The idea wasn't ...entirely repulsive. 

Draco's eyes refocused and noticed his friend staring at him, cheeky smirk plastered on her face. 

"What?" 

"You definitely imagined it didn't you? What it would be like to have a child?" 

"Did not!" 

"You did!" 

Draco groaned and began to run off towards his home, Hermione running after him with giggles filling the air. Draco yelled a quick hello and goodbye to his parents as he ran up to his room and closed the door behind them, both him and Hermione falling onto the bed. 

"You imagined it didn't you." 

"And what if I said I did?" 

"Then I would say that you're in love with Mr. Potter and wish to carry his children, but it's pointless isn't it? You'd just deny it." Hermione said matter-of-factly, hugging an embroidered pillow to her chest. 

Draco hid his face into the pillows, kicking his legs like a petulant child. Hermione dug him out, "I'm right, aren't I?"

Draco sighed dramatically, "Fine! Alright! I will admit, he is handsome." He said through gritted teeth, yanking out his ribbon from his hair and letting it flow loosely and freely down his torso. 

Hermione squealed and Draco instantly regretted his decision. "I knew it! I knew you thought he was handsome! Oh please can I plan your wedding!! It can be in the gardens or- oh!! It could be at Derbyshire! That would be so grand! And we could hire a lovely orchestra and Ronald will hold a party and it'll be so lovely-" Hermione was cut off by Draco smacking her lightly with a pillow, causing the girl to fall back onto the bed. 

"For the last time! Harry Potter and I are not! Getting! Married!" Draco exclaimed, repeatedly hitting Hermione with the pillow, ignoring her whining and giggles and gasping. Hermione armed herself with another pillow, retaliating promptly into what become a full out pillow-war.  
\---  
That night, Draco dreamt of white lace gowns and I do's.


	7. Rain falls like tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Harry expose feelings for each other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and tell me if you're dying from this new chapter ❤️😭

"There has to be a way of getting these two lonely souls together," Hermione drawled as she fanned herself, the summer breeze flowing into the room proved itself to be too hot to bother. Summers in Derbyshire had always been scorching endurance tests, beating down on the poor residents of the town. She was draped across a lounge chaise, attempting to dab the sweat from her temples before it ran down and ruined her makeup. It would be a pity after all, since she was currently in the company of Mr. Granger. Hermione and Ronald had become closer as time passed and their infatuation with each other was nothing of a secret. The two often visited each other, taking leisurely walks around town or sitting down for afternoon tea. Today, Hermione was in Ron's drawing room, chatting with the man. 

"Now, now, Hermione, we shouldn't interfere with their lives." Ron tutted, pouring amber tea into porcelain teacups. He set one cup down on the saucer, handing it to Hermione. 

"Those two are as stubborn as a donkey. They will never truly express their love for each other if we don't give them a little nudge in the right direction!" She took the cup and added a splash of milk into her tea, taking a silver spoon and stirring softly. "Draco is too proud to ever admit he wants to get married and have children."

"And Harry would never admit that he craves affection and attention. His rough exterior drives away any potential suitor that dares to attempt to woo him." Ron sat back down on the couch across from Hermione, picking up a small finger sandwich. 

"So it's our chance, nay, our duty to bring these two together." 

"And how will we ever do that, darling dearest?" Ron smirked, bringing the sandwich to his mouth and taking a large bite, getting cream cheese on the corners of his lips. Hermione rolled her eyes with a small curling smile at the corners of her mouth. 

"We plan a get-together of course," she said as she sat up, "You send out invitations, perhaps for a game night or a dinner party, only the four of us, you, me, Draco, and Harry. But we don't tell them that the other is invited."

"And therefore they won't refuse," Ronald smiled, his eyes widening as the two leaned in closer and closer as their excitement built. 

"Exactly, and then, since it's way too late at night, you invite them to stay in your home-" Hermione's face inched closer to Ron's.

"If only for the night-" Ron's Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped.

"And oops, there are no more empty rooms, they've all been freshly painted and therefore-"

"The only two available rooms are the ones on the third floor. The ones that are across from each other." Ronald smiles and sighs, "I'm in awe of how brilliant you are, my love." 

Hermione's cheeks grew into a pale blush as she attempted to bite back a smirk. "It's about time to recognize my excellence."   
\---   
The night was muggy and humid as dark clouds loomed in the afternoon sky causing the entire scene to look grey and drab. Draco clutched the white envelope in his hand as he looked out the window of his carriage. He was on the way to Derbyshire, about half an hour's time by foot and 10 minutes by carriage. Ronald had invited him to a dinner party, but Draco worried they would be rained out. A shame really, a summer night like this would have been better used outside, dining and drinking in the gardens. 

As the carriage pulled into the cobblestone, Draco's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. There were two carts in the middle of the entrance instead of one. Hadn't the invitation mentioned only Hermione's presence as well? Draco's mind raced to search for the mystery guest as he was helped out of the carriage and up the stairs to the front door. Could it be-- no, it couldn't. It was probably one of Ronald's siblings or-or-

"Now presenting, Sir Draco Malfoy." The attending announced. Draco's stormy grey eyes met wild hazel green. 

Draco stood stiffly as Harry Potter jolted from his seat next to Hermione, bowing stiffly to Draco and awkwardly sitting back up and noticing that neither Ron nor Hermione had bowed to such an extent. Draco's snow white skin blushed pink as she curtsied back, walking towards the group. He hadn't noticed the mischievous glances as Harry's eyes followed Draco. The boy sat down next to Ronald, hesitantly taking the glass of wine that was offered to him by a maid. 

"Dinner will be ready in 30 minutes," a butler announced, bowing politely and leaving once more to the kitchen. Ronald glanced over at Hermione and smiled before he slapped his hands against his thighs and stood up. "Well! I'll be checking up on things in the kitchen. Uhhh...Hermione, would you please join me?" 

"Why yes, of course!" Hermione jolted up and the two of them scurried to the kitchen, tittering to themselves and trying to contain their laughter.

Then there were only two.

Draco glanced over, lips wet with wine and stained slightly giving them a rosey red tinge. Harry had been staring straight ahead towards him, slowly bringing his crystalline glass of whiskey up to his lips, never breaking eye contact as the ice clinked with movement. Draco's body felt warm and fluttery, his foot tapping in anxiety as the two sat in utter silence. They hadn't seen each other since the Masquerade party, not since Harry had confessed in drunken stupor that he was intrigued by Draco, the boy with elven features and glassy doll eyes. 

"I heard it was going to rain. The newspapers said it so." Draco said softly, taking another sip of his wine glass. He wished for this awkwardness to dissipate, but the aura in the room was as thick inside as the air outside, muggy and murky and suffocating. 

"Thunderstorms." Harry muttered back, no emotions, no softness peeking out from a rough exterior. 

"Yes.. yes, thunderstorms." Draco set down his glass and sighed, standing from his seat and smoothing down his clothing. He began to stroll to the large bay windows, taking in the light pitter-patter of rain drops on the glass. The only light in the room came from dimly lit candelabras flickering orange glows and the fireplace that roared and crackled. As Draco roamed around the room, Harry's eyes followed, watching his figure move gracefully through the light. The curve of his waist, his hips, his ass and the plumpness of his lips. 

Draco turned once more towards the man and finally Harry cleared his throat and spoke, "I wonder what's taking those two so long in the kitchen?" 

"Perhaps they've runaway in a passionate affair," Draco joked, "Perhaps they've already boarded a ship to Paris this very second." 

"Now don't be daft," Harry tsked, standing up with his glass, taking a sip and walking towards Draco, the orange glow of the fires reflecting in Harry's eyes and Draco's skin. 

"Oh yes, I forgot, you are quite devoid of all romantic sentiments. Except, last time I remembered, you expressed your certain infatuation with me." Draco's eyes glowed with devilish playfulness. Harry began to corner him, setting down his glass next to Draco on the table. Draco's body began to stiffen and straighten as Harry somewhat boxed the boy in, smirking as Draco attempted to turn his head in embarrassment. 

"Well, if my unromantic sensibilities offend you so, why do you shrink away from me in such a way? Perhaps you just hate me so much that you can't bear being so close to me. After all, you did look quite comfortable with Mr. Nott." Harry's words and breath tickled Draco's neck, making goosebumps erupt across his skin.

Draco scoffed and lightly pushed the man away. "What an egomaniac you are, Mr. Potter. I pity the person you call your future wife." With agility, Draco scooted out from Harry's grasp, slightly airing his face to hide his ever growing blush. "Where is Hermione and Ron?!" Draco whined, not noticing Harry following him from behind. 

Harry grabbed Draco's wrist, yanking him back into his arms and holding him down. "I think you don't actually loathe me, I think you tease me on purpose, little minx. Perhaps you intend to seduce a wealthy husband and have yourself comfortable for the rest of your life." 

"I would rather die dirt poor than anything akin to your wife," Draco spat out, wriggling in Harry's grasp. "Your teasing will not get a rise from me, Mr. Potter. I assure you, I am not easily swayed." 

"I suppose not, but God knows that you yearn for me," Harry smirks, his lips curling wickedly as Draco's eyes widened and his lips began to shiver slightly. "But alas, you are simply too infuriating for me, I weep for the man who is unfortunate enough to call you his wife." Harry dropped Draco's hands, walking back to the table to take his drink. Harry chuckled at the sound of Draco's frustrated growl, turning back around and opening his mouth to add to the fire, only to be interrupted by Hermione and Ron popping their heads out of the kitchen. 

"Dinner is ready!"   
\---

Dinner was a silent affair. No one dared to break the silence that had formed around them except for the clattering of heavy rain against the windows. Ron and Hermione glanced over to each other with worried eyes, noticing that both their guests had turned into a sour mood. 

"Perhaps it would be best if you two stayed the night. After all, it's raining quite harshly." Ron suggested in a lighthearted tone.

"I don't mean to impose-" 

"No imposition at all, Draco. It would be an honor." 

The dinner continued with only the clanking of silverware and the pummeling of rain to fill the room. Hermione cleared her throat slightly, dabbing her lips with her handkerchief. "Doesn't Draco look lovely tonight, Harry?" 

Harry's eyes shifted upwards to Hermione and then over to Draco. They shifted back down at his plate. "Quite." 

Hermione shifted slightly in her seat. "W-well, this food is delicious. Did you know that Draco is an excellent cook? He's a gifted baker as well. In fact, he was thinking about going to see a culinary tutor in France!" 

"Yes, quite a lovely trait for homemaking, don't you think?" Ronald smiled and shoved bread into his mouth.

"An admirable trait." Harry deadpanned, continuing to prod at his food. 

Draco's cheeks turned red and hot as he noticed Harry's sudden cold behavior towards him. The two seemed dejected and this caused Ron and Hermione to gulp and fidget in their seats. Hermione turned to Draco and attempted to pull her best smile. "Draco, come with me for a second. Excuse us boys, we are going to go powder our noses," she dragged Draco away with her to the bathroom, pushing him inside. 

"What is the matter with you two! You like each other, don't you??" Hermione whined to Draco as Draco pulled out a pot of lip rouge and began dabbing it across his lips. 

"We don't like each other 'Mione. In fact, I am beginning to think Harry Potter finds nothing more than pleasure in torturing me," Draco drawled as he undid his braided hair and began to braid it again, anxious fingers getting tangled in silver locks. Draco's voice held slight sadness as he spoke and Hermione's heart broke in two. 

"He likes you, he adores you. I don't understand why you push him away."

"He pushes me away!" Draco growls, hands gripping the vanity in a white-knuckled clutch. "He's rude and arrogant and positively barbaric." 

"You love him." 

"I DON'T!"

"You already told me you think he's handsome."

"And so what?! He's never going to like me that way, Hermione. He's never…." Draco's lips shivered as he tried to hold back the tears that threatened to drip. "I don't know," Draco whined, eyes watering and hands rushing up to wipe at them. "He confuses me! One minute I think he's so charming and suave and then the next minute he's the devil! How do I know he ever would want me for more than my body!" Tears flowed freely from Draco's eyes and rolled down soft cheeks. Hermione sighed and gathered tissue, patting down Draco's face softly. 

"Don't cry, Draco. Please don't cry. You're so young to be so worried, my love," Hermione cooed, cradling the boys face in her palms. "You must tell him, Draco. You must tell him of your true feelings or you'll never know what could be." 

Draco sniffled and nodded, hot tears rushing down his cheeks to his neck.   
\---  
Harry's head snapped towards the door once the two came back from the restroom. Harry watched as Hermione took her seat once more, but suddenly Harry's eyes caught sight of Draco's eyes. They were puffy and pink, slate grey turned glassy as wetness stuck to his long eyelashes. Harry's eyebrows couldn't help but furrow in confusion and worry as Draco took his seat back at the table, eyes not dating to fall upon Harry's. 

"Well...perhaps we should all begin to settle down for the night." Ron turned to Hermione and smiled, "Allow me to take you to your room tonight?" 

Hermione smiled and nodded, taking Ron's arm and getting up from the table and up the stairs. Once again, Harry and Draco were alone. The silence between them was deafening and Harry wished, silently implored Draco to look up at him, to snap back at him with a witty and stinging retort. Draco remained silent. 

"May I take you to-"

"Goodnight, Mr. Potter" Draco said softly as he stood from his seat and began padding over to the staircase. 

Harry quickly shot up from his seat, nearly knocking over plates and silverware to the ground as he raced towards Draco. The two stood side by side as they walked down the winding hallways. Harry glanced over at Draco, and yet the boy would still not meet his gaze. Harry's body began to grow tight and anxious, his palms sweating and his collar tight. 

"Draco, are you alright?' 

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" The voice was monotone, slow and unfeeling. Harry felt sick. 

"Draco, I-"

Draco stopped in front of a large mahogany door. He turned towards Harry and finally, looking him in the eyes, spoke. "Goodnight, Mr. Potter" with a turn of his heel, Draco began twisting the doorknob. 

"Wait," Harry shot his hand out to grab Draco's wrist. Draco's eyes shot down to the offending hand and then back to Harry's face. He looked...hurt. Pained...Desperate.

"Draco...I'm...I'm…" 

"Harry. It's ok. I understand, the teasing, flirting. It's ok." Draco's words felt heavy against Harry's chest. "How about we call it a truce? I don't think my heart can take anymore of this, I'll go crazy. I don't know what we are, Harry. I don't know if you even like me, in fact, I think you absolutely hate me." 

"But-"

"If it's my body you want, then please let me know. I don't know what you want, Harry. I don't know and it's killing me." Tears began to spring from Draco's eyes once more. Harry felt like the air was knocked from his lungs. He watched as the boy in front of him crumbled, frantically wiping at his face to hide the tears that threatened to fall. Large, warm hands came up to Draco's cheeks, one hand sliding down to Draco's neck. The boy looked up at Harry, eyes glittering and wet. 

"Draco, I'm...my little flower, I'm sorry." Harry leaned forwards and pulled Draco into his arms, letting him burrow into his chest and neck. Harry held Draco against him, letting little sobs wrack through his body and shake. "Sweet boy," Harry sighed, petting Draco's hair. 

The two of them stood in the dark hallway, Harry stroking Draco's hair and Draco crying softly. The boy pulled his face up from Harry's chest and sniffled. "You're an asshole, Harry Potter. A right wanker." Draco's words came out harsh and weepy. Harry simply smiled, nodded and sighed. "I know I am, I'm sorry." 

Draco took a deep breath, pulling back from Harry's grasp. He blushed, deep red filing his face to his ears and to his neck. "I'll be going now, after all, I've completely made a fool of myself and I'm just going to die now, so goodnight Harry." Draco turned to his room and opened the door, walking inside the room. 

Before he could close the door entirely, Harry shoved out a hand and pushed it open. With a renewed energy and intensity, Harry pulled Draco closer and suddenly, their lips met. Draco's eyes shut closed, the air knocked from his lungs as Harry took his face into his hands, deepening the kiss and pulling Draco closer into his arms. Draco's lips were plush against Harry's and Draco could feel heat fall from his chest to his stomach, erupting into fluttering waves. Like a hummingbird, Draco's heart thrummed in his chest. 

Slowly, Harry pulled away. Draco's eyes fluttered open and his pupils were wide as he tried to catch his breath. 

"I hope this tells you exactly what we are," Harry purred, his thumb rubbing circles into Draco's cheek. With tingling lips, Draco was soon left alone in his bedroom, Harry had left to his own. The boy wordlessly moved to the bed, still in a state of shock. He laid down, staring up at the ceiling before him. Slowly, he moved his fingers to his lips, brushing against them lightly as if he could still feel Harry's lips on his own. Draco smiled sheepishly, got under the covers of the bed, and blew out the candle.


	8. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco's relationship is discussed and feelings are shared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this update is really late, school started up again and I didn't have the chance to write. Please enjoy!! Comment if you liked the new update. ❤️

Draco couldn't sleep that night. The moonlight streamed through his drawn curtains, filling the room with a white light that reflected off of each surface and into Draco's eyes. He couldn't sleep just as he couldn't stop his fingertips from tracing his lips softly, feeling the tingle within them as he remembered over and over how Harry Potter had taken him by the waist and kissed him. With a frustrated groan, Draco tossed and turned in his bed, his hair splayed around him and entangled in all different directions. 

How dare Harry Potter make him feel this way. This bubbling of anticipation and nerves that made their way through Draco's stomach into his chest. He had been perfectly fine all these years, no need for love and no interest in romance. He had never taken another glance at a man let alone allow one to anger him and fill him with confusing emotions. Draco couldn't help but feel he was losing his mind, reducing himself down to a silly little character in one of Hermione's romance novels. The boy's pale cheeks flushed at the memories popping up within his mind; memories of crying lightly into a firm chest and warm arms and hands wrapping around him gingerly. Perhaps Harry actually has reciprocated his feelings, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to marry and bare children. His toes wiggled in his sheets as he tossed and turned.  
\---

Draco woke up with unfortunate bags under his eyes from his insomnia and his hair tangled and flying every which way. He slowly sat up in his bed, reveling in the feeling of his bones and joints cracking and stretching under the new pressure. The sunlight was seeping through into the room and little birds birds chirped outside merrily. Draco reached for his sterling silver hairbrush and began working on his bird nest of hair, carefully combing through it. He had decided to dress slightly more casual, form fitting trousers with a clean white button down blouse, a loose black ribbon tied around his neck. It was lovely, Draco mused. It would surely make Mr. Potter tongue-tied. Before leaving his bedroom, Draco's fingers reached out for a small vial of perfume, dripping some of the soft oil into his neck and down his chest. 

Breakfast was already underway when Draco had finally strolled down the stairs. Hermione was at the dining table, butter knife in hand as she spread jam onto honey rolls. Her eyes lit up at the site of Draco, setting down her things and beckoning him closer. "Good morning, darling. I trust you slept well?" She smirked, making room for Draco at the table and passing him a cup of tea. 

"Yes...er..where's…" Draco sat down gingerly and accepted the cup. 

"Ronald and your beloved Mr. Potter are currently outside in the yard, acting like children and racing each other." Hermione drawled on as she resumed her activity and took a dainty bite of her roll. She took a small sniff from her nose and her eyes narrowed slightly, her head turning towards Draco who was sipping his tea. She came closer to Draco, sniffing down his neck and leaning in even closer when Draco attempted to pull away. "Are you wearing perfume? You never wear perf-"

"Good morning! I see you two have gotten comfortable with some breakfast!" In came Ron, a sweaty mess with his shirt untucked and buttons undone. Draco smiled fondly at the messy appearance until Harry appeared from behind him.  
Harry's shirt was completely unbuttoned, showing off his broad and tanned chest, what looked like it was sculpted by the hands of the great artists themselves. Draco's eyes never left Harry's chest, untamed black chest hair covered the expanse of skin, leading down further and further and further, down to the edge of his pants-

"Good morning," Harry muttered with a clearing of his voice which made Draco's eyes snap forwards, a bright pink blush on his cheeks and down his neck. 

"I trust you boys had a grand time running around like wild dogs." Hermione teased, eyes drifting back and forth between Draco and Harry. 

"Quite! It's such a lovely day, I recommend we go for a stroll, a picnic! Going to town! Anything that involves us being outside!" Ronald smiled widely, "I'll have my cooks make us a basket and we can all go down to the river and eat lunch!" 

"Sounds splendid!" Hermione giggled, clapping her hands together. "Doesn't that sound wonderful, Draco?" She turned to Draco, taking his arm, realizing the gaze he held with Harry had still not yet broken. Draco was startled by the sudden action and turned to Hermione"

"Hm? Oh..yes that sounds great. Perhaps...Mione and I should go home for a bit, just so we can gather our belongings and change into picnic ready attire."

"Your current outfit is more than suitable!" Ron exclaimed, "But, if you must, so be it! I'll send a carriage for you two to bring you home as well as pick you up!"  
\---  
As the carriage waited outside the manor, Ronald and Harry walked their two guests outside, taking their hands to help them into the compartment. Draco took one hand and one foot, tempted to simply haul himself inside, but soon an open hand was presented to him to take. Draco's eyes never left Harry's as he took his open palm and climbed inside the carriage. The man soon turned around and left, without a word being spoken. The carriage drove off and Draco was now too far away from the Manor to see Harry curl his fingers into a fist and then stretch them out again. 

As the two reached Draco's home, Hermione said goodbye and began to walk in the direction of her own home. By the time Draco reached his front door, he leaned his back against the wooden pillar and took deep breaths through his chest, bringing his fingertips to gently graze against his lips. 

"Oh? Is my pretty Draco home so soon?" Lucius came around the corner, glasses in hand. Draco soon straightened his back, smiling up at his father. He was enveloped in a large hug, one that he openly nuzzled into. Once the hug broke, Lucius guided Draco into the drawing room. 

"So, how was the dinner party, love?" Lucius asked as he took his seat in his usual arm chair. 

"It was fine, daddy," Draco muttered. "Where's mum?" He asked, searching the area slightly. 

"Your mother is in town, doing the shopping." Lucius said calmly, "Are you alright, darling? You seem slightly...frazzled?"

"Hm? Oh, no daddy. I'm fine. In fact, Hermione and I were invited to a picnic with Mr. Weasely and Mr. Potter. I should be getting ready for it, actually. The carriage comes around again in an hour or so." Draco sat up from his seat and made his way towards the staircase that leads to his room. 

"Mr. Potter, you say? Isn't he the bloke that your mother wishes for you to-"

"I'm going now!!" Draco huffed, stomping up the stairs with a pink tint on his cheeks. His father simply chuckled to himself and sighed, picking up the daily newspaper next to him. 

Draco changed into a baby pink sundress, one that flowed easily in the wind and accentuated his light curves. His hair was kept loose, except for the ribbon that was woven in and tied off into a bow. Draco packed a few novels he would like to read, as well as a hat incase the sun was too abrasive. The boy heard the carriage stroll up to his entrance and he was soon skittering down the stairs, heels clacking against the wood. 

"Draco you look precious! Where are you going??" Narcissa had just arrived from the shopping and was soon enough coming to greet her son.

"Sorry mummy, got to go!" Draco rambled as he scurried past her, no time for explanation as he jetted through the door and let it swing closed with a thud. Lucius simply chuckled again from his seat. 

"He's going on an outing, darling. Let the boy have some fun while he's still young." Lucius smiled as Narcissa sat down across him from, stirring her tea. 

"An outing with whom?" 

"I believe a certain Mr. Potter will be there," Lucius smirked from behind his papers as he heard his wife gasp and begin to rejoice.  
\---  
The wind blew fiercely along the grassy fields of Derbyshire, making the trees sway and whip into a frenzy. Draco's dress wrapped around his legs and waist as he was helped out of the carriage, trailing behind him was Hermione in her pretty cream colored dress. Ron and Harry were already there, sitting idly at the gazebo set up for their outting, smoking cigars and drinking scotch. At the notice of Draco and Hermione, both men stood and bowed, Draco's eyes never left the man who hadn't talked to him the entire day. 

"Would anyone care for a drink? We have wine, sweetened Brandy, iced tea, coffee?" Ronald asked as he gestured for a butler to come over with the brightly colored array of sweets and drinks. Draco reached out for a tea cup, eyes flashing slightly forwards. Expectedly, Harry was staring back at him, dagger-like intensity following his eyes as he watched Draco's plush pink lips curl around the rim of the cup, taking small sips. Harry's eyes followed the graceful slope of his neck with each swallow, only to look back at the mouth in question. 

"So, what did you two talk about once we all retired to bed?" Hermione asked with a mischievous smile on her lips, picking at the fruit placed in front of her. 

"Nothing, absolutely nothing at all." Draco muttered in annoyance, the lilt in his voice was unconvincing to Hermione, who pressed on. 

"Really? I heard some noises from across the hall that I could only assume was you and Mr. Potter here." 

"I assure you, Mr. Malfoy and I have less to discuss than you imagine." Harry finally spoke, ignoring the confused and angry glare from Draco who simply stated at him. "I walked Draco to his bedroom, and then retired to my own." 

Draco scoffed at the remark, had Harry completely forgotten about their shared tears, secret and shushed endearments and their passionate embrace, as quick and sweet as it was? Or perhaps he remembered and regretted it, regretted the entire event and decided to forget about it. Ronald and Hermione noticed Draco's angry picking at his plate of food, sharing concern glances and noticing that Harry was frustratedly puffing his cigar, the smoke curling around then in a hazy trance. The two of them raised their eyebrows in intrigue, shrugging slightly and turning back to their own devices.  
\---

As the evening went on and the sky went from robin egg blue to a mix of burnt orange and raspberry pinks, Hermione and Ron found themselves invested in a particularly intense game of Bridge. Harry watched on from his seat, burning through another cigar. His eyes sometimes fluttered between the card game and the young boy seated under a grand Willow tree, completely enthralled in a novel he had brought with him (except for the times Draco glanced back at Harry when the older man wasn't looking). After about an hour of content quiet, Harry began to take a stand, stretching his legs and arms and neck. 

"I think I'll take a walk," he muttered, only receiving half hearted 'hms' in response. Harry walked towards the boy, who's pretty grey eyes glanced upwards from his book to look back at him. "Would you care to accompany me, Mr. Malfoy?" 

Draco's lips curled slightly as he placed his bookmarker back in between the pages. "I suppose so," he drawled. Harry instantly stuck out a hand for Draco to take, in order to help him off the ground. Draco took it without a word, allowing the man to bring him up to him, face to face. Draco began to dust himself off slightly, walking off before Harry and hoping to God that his cheeks weren't as hot and pink as they felt. Due to this, Draco couldn't see the small smirk that curled around Harry's lips and the fondness that began to creep onto his face. 

The walk was silent and the two men kept a moderate distance from each other. Harry didn't fail to notice Draco's slight stumbling, his heels must have made it difficult to walk on the grass, still wet from the previous night's rain. 

"Why did you invite me on this stroll, Mr. Potter?" Draco asked with a slight bite to his inner cheek. He glanced over to the man, his face as neutral and stoic as always. 

"Am I not allowed to simply ask for company on an outing?" 

Draco snapped his mouth shut, his eyes drifting down to the ground. The silence was uncomfortable, a thick tension wrapped around them and enveloped them in a state of limbo. Neither of them dared to bring up last night's events, as if voicing them would only reaffirm that it truly, actually happened. The silence was insufferable and Draco couldn't help but shiver as the sun took it's leave and the moon began to rise from its slumber. The wind picked up and howled, a chill running down Draco's spine. 

Harry glanced over at the boy and tsked, rolling his eyes impertinently and began to shrug off his overcoat, setting it heavily upon Draco's fragile shoulders. Before Draco could react or respond, Harry was already wrapping an arm around the younger boy's waist, bringing him closer. The grip was unsure and cautious, but Draco couldn't help but hide his face into the collar of the coat to hide the giddy smile growing on his lips. The scent of Harry lingered on the fabric of the coat and Draco nuzzled into it. 

"Since you insist on dressing so scantily, it cannot be helped," Harry muttered gruffly, his cheeks growing ever so slightly redder. 

"Never a lack of insults from you, right, Mr. Potter?" Draco purred, finally wrapping his arms around Harry's bicep, holding on as the wind picked up. He could hear the only man chuckle slightly, feel the rumble in his chest as it vibrates against Draco's skin. 

"I thought you hated me, wasn't it you who said I was despicable, horrible, and cruel?" Harry teased, "If I knew any better, I would say you quite like my insults, Draco." His eyes glanced down, mischievous and playful. The boy scoffed and tsked. 

"Don't flatter yourself, Mr. Potter. You're truly all the things I've called you, not to mention daft as well since you can't even find yourself a wife to put up with your attitude." Draco sneered, even though he relished in the way Harry's grip around his waist tightened and began to stroke softly. 

"As if you don't fantasize about being my wife. Bearing my children and worshipping the ground I walk on." Harry laughed heartily as Draco huffed frustratedly and let go of his arm, stopping off ahead of Harry, but still with Harry's coat around his shoulders. 

"I REGRET EVER ALLOWING YOU TO COMFORT ME! WHAT A LITTLE FOOL I WAS!" Draco exclaimed, totally ignoring the laughs and chuckles coming from behind him. "You're truly disgusting! A pig-headed man!" Harry wrapped his arms back around Draco's waist from behind him, tucking Draco's head under his chin. The younger boy simply huffed, ignoring the man who was softly nuzzling his neck, littering his jaw and cheeks with sweet and tender kisses. After a few seconds of the only sounds being the wind howling and soft kisses, Draco muttered, "I had thought you regretted our...time together...last night." He was vulnerable, Harry thought, as he turned Draco around to face him directly. Draco's eyes casted down as Harry lifted his chin upwards. 

"I would never regret last night. Yes, yes, I might be a pig-headed man, but now that I have a certain kitten in my grasp, I fully intend on making him my bride." Harry's eyes were full of fondness as he stared down at the boy in his arms. 

Draco's cheeks turned bright red and he scoffed, pulling away from Harry's grasp. "Don't think I've fallen so easily, Mr. Potter. I assure you, you'll have to try much harder to win my affections before I could ever agree to marry you. I'll have you know, I have multiple suitors in line!" 

Harry simply laughed against, a deep billowing chuckle from his chest which made Draco feel younger than he had before, slightly embarrassed but also keeping his resolve. Harry nodded, bringing Draco back into his arms and running his hands through soft blonde hair. "Of course. I will court you properly, if you wish." 

"Well, If we had it your way, I'd be confined in your bed already, never to see the light of day again," Draco muttered sheepishly as Harry and him began to head back to the Manor.

"Come, my little pearl, we must get back to the Manor before our disappearance rouses suspicion." 

Draco rolled his eyes at the term of endearment. "I suppose we should keep our intentions a secret for now?" 

"If you wish," Harry kissed the back of Draco's hand. 

"Now now, don't treat me any differently," Draco said as he pushed the man away, ignoring the sad whine from Harry's chest. "Go back to your rude, bitter, and sardonic ways. And I hope you won't treat me like such a precious glass figurine when we are in private, it's quite infuriating actually." They rounded the Manor entrance and Harry smiled and shrugged.

"You're right, I should treat you as you are, an insipid and infuriating little child," he sing-songed as he walked inside, ignoring Draco's little gasp and 'hey!'


End file.
